Ilka on the Hill-Top and Other Stories eBook

“It was a mistake, madam, I assure you,”
said Hahn huskily, as he pulled out his handkerchief,
and began to whip the dust off his trowsers.

The wreath of thin hair which he had carefully combed,
so as to make the nakedness of his crown less conspicuous,
was bristling toward all the points of the compass.
His tall hat had gone on an independent journey down
the stairs, and was heard tumbling deliberately from
step to step. Fritz, who had recovered himself
much more rapidly, seemed to have forgotten that he
had himself borne any part in the disgraceful scene;
he looked at his father with kind of a pitying superiority,
and began to assist him in the repair of his toilet,
with the air of an officious outsider, all of which
the crest-fallen father endured with great fortitude.
He seemed only anxious to explain the situation to
the two women, who were still viewing him with marked
disapproval.

“It was all a mistake, madam—­a great
mistake,” he kept repeating.

“A great mistake!” ejaculated Mother Uberta,
contemptuously. “This isn’t a time
to be makin’ mistakes outside the door of two
lonely women.”

“It is fifteen minutes past nine,” said
Hahn meekly, pulling a corpulent gold watch from the
pocket of his waistcoat.

“Madam,” said Fritz, without the slightest
air of apology, “I came here to consult you
on a matter of business, which would bear no delay.”

“Exactly, exactly,” interrupted Hahn eagerly.
“So did I, a matter of business which would
bear no delay.”

“Well, Vaeterchen, we are simple countrywomen,
and we don’t understand city manners. But
if you want to see me on business, I shall be at home
to-morrow at twelve o’clock.”

So saying, Mother Uberta slammed the door in the faces
of her visitors, and left them to grope their way
in the dark down the steep stairway. It was highly
characteristic, both of the senior and the junior
Hahn, that without a word of explanation they drove
home amicably in the same droschke.

Ilka’s engagement at the “Haute Noblesse”
in the autumn had proved a great success, and Mother
Uberta, who was never averse to earning money, had,
without difficulty, been persuaded to remain in Berlin
during the winter, on condition of the renewal of their
contract for another six weeks in the spring.
Ilka was in the meanwhile to take lessons in singing
at Hahn’s expense, possibly with a view to future
distinction as a prima donna of the opera. Her
maestro had told her repeatedly that she had
naturally a better voice than Nilsson, and that, if
she could dry up for ever her fountain of tears, she
might become a great artiste. For Ilka
had the deplorable habit of crying on very slight
provocation. The maestro, with his wild
hair, his long, polished nails, and his frantic gesticulations,
frightened and distressed her; she thought and spoke
of him as a kind of curious animal, and nothing could
persuade her that he and she belonged to the same